Sunday morning, mother and I were discussing... well actually, I have no idea how we got onto the topic, but she asked me if I liked Fiber One Bars, which I do. She then told me about that day's question-and answer article in the health section of the newspaper. A woman wrote in saying (and I paraphrase), "My friends and I recently decided that we needed to up our fiber intake, so we've greatly increased our Fiber One Bar consumption. We all have observed that as our Fiber One Bar consumption increases, so does our proclivity to pass gas. Is this normal?" To which I would respond, "Are you asking if the gas increase is normal? Or if your friends' tendency to discuss their gassiness is normal?" (But apparently they were onto something.)
The following conversation occurred in the car after dinner at the Sumraks, which consisted of three different types of cake, all of which were delicious. I blame the absurdity of our conversation on our ridiculously high levels of blood sugar. Rowan, attempting to tell Rebecca to "quit the back-sass," invented a new word: "back-sauce." We corrected him and then made two important observations: firstly, that "back-sauce" sounds disgusting; secondly, that you don't really need the prefix "back" for the sentence to make sense. "Sass" is sufficient. This led to an extensive discussion about various prefixes that could be used with "sass" and how those prefixes would change the meaning of the word. A debate ensued about the difference between "unsass" and "desass." "Resass" was pretty obvious. It all went downhill from there:
Katie: Mom, I think this car must run on "sassoline."
Rebecca: If you sass someone to death, you might be a "sassassin."
Rebecca: If you are huge, hairy, and extra sassy, they might call you the Sassquatch.
Katie: If you are a beloved and photogenic sheepdog with a tendency to be cheeky, they might call you "Sassie."
Rachel: If you are sassy, fairly attractive, with a strong Irish hairline, you might be Carlton "Sassiter."
Katie: If you were sassy and you married Prince Harry, you might live in a "sassle." They would call you the "prin-sass."
Katie: Mom, if you eat too many Fiber One Bars, you might get "sassy!"
Rowan chimed in with his own jokes, none of which made sense and all of which brought me to tears. The best part was after his sixth or seventh joke when he slapped the back of the passenger seat in frustration, slumped back, feeling defeated, and said with a grin, "You guys are lame."
And these gems come from recent babysitting adventures:
"But Katie, he keeps taking my car away from me! Make him stop!" "Don't worry, watch this." (I then start playing very enthusiastically with the airplane to distract him: "Quick, get your luggage, we're going to be late! Wait, you aren't the real pilot--you're a monkey! How are you going to drive the plane? Oh no, MAYDAY MAYDAY WE'RE GOING DOWN!") "Wait, actually I want to play with the airplane! NO, give me the airplane, he can have my car!" (I then proceed to rotate through the Marina, the Main Street, and the Zoo, making each one seem even more fun than the last. Much inner turmoil ensued, as both children tried to figure out whether to grab my current toy or wait to see what was next. I love Fisher Price.)
"See this dress? I wore it in my tap dance recital." "That's so pretty! When was your dance recital?" "The day after yesterday." "Don't you mean the day before yesterday?" "No, the day AFTER yesterday."
"Wow Katie, you're a good train track builder. This track is better than ever!"
"This train is going to take us straight to England! But it will take about 25 hours I think, because we have to stop off in Texas first." "Oh, you're going to pick up the cowboys?" "No way am I picking up any cowboys! No cowboys are allowed on this train!" "Why? Are you prejudiced against cowboys?" "You bet I am!" "You could put them in the next rail-car. You know, separate, but equal?" "Yeah, that's a great idea!"
"I usually eat my baked potato with whipped cream." "And a cherry on top?" "Huh?" "Never mind."
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